


Heat

by ilokheimsins



Series: ABO AUs [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Roxy/OMC - Freeform, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Eggsy spends a lot of time trying to figure out what's so special about the honeypot missions Harry gets and then spends a lot of time trying to avoid Harry.  All while wanking off to the thought of Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> So one of my favorite things to do is to re-imagine tropes. Currently, I've been looking over different ways to play around with the traditional A/B/O dynamics.
> 
> The idea behind this particular one is that after a certain age, unmated omegas stop having heats entirely but will start having them again if they ever find a mate. These omegas are called "mature omegas" and there's a particular fantasy about being the alpha that restarts a mature omegas heats etc, etc.
> 
> There is also a PWP followup to this coming soon because I write instead of studying for my exams, whoo!

In every agent’s roster of missions, there are the boring ones – surveillance and recon primarily; the interesting ones – Merlin tends to despair over repair bills; the dangerous ones – where agents sometimes don’t come back at all; and finally, the honeypots.

Now, in general, as one ages (some with grace – Galahad comes to mind; some not so gracefully – Bors can be heard whinging about his white hairs) the number of honeypot missions decreases.  To be sure, there are missions in which the target prefers someone of an older persuasion, someone with a debonair grace and a dashing air about them, an elegance that speaks of having aged more finely than even the finest of wines.

But those are few and far between.  Primarily, honeypots fall to Eggsy and Roxy, being the youngest, fittest, and, in Eggsy’s exact words, “the prettiest of you fuckin’ lot, ‘cept you Harry.”

However, the rarest ones of them all are the sorts that come to Galahad and Galahad alone.  These happen perhaps once a year.  The nature of them is so secret – and so out of left field – that not a single knight, to date, has managed to figure out the reason for them without hacking into Galahad’s file.   It is then, of course, a surprise when Merlin announces the newest round of missions.

As per the overhaul of the bureaucracy within Kingsman, missions are now assigned with a quorum of agents at the round table, which is indeed a circle now.  It’s Merlin’s attempt to promote transparency between his agents, so much as he can anyway.

Thus, it occurs that everyone, aside from Leon  – who has the unfortunate and dubious pleasure of traversing the wilds of Uruguay at the moment, is present when Merlin quite calmly slides a dossier down to Harry and says, “A honeypot for you, Galahad, of the more…intriguing nature.”

Harry’s mouth curls ever so slightly at that, something that would be prouder and smugger on anyone not Harry.  But Harry merely dips his head in acknowledgement.  Eggsy’s absolutely dying to know what makes this honeypot different, aside from it being one of the rare ones that’s handed to an older agent.

Unfortunately, Harry departs swiftly after the meeting and Eggsy gets caught up with Elyan, who congratulates him with an affectionate pat on the back and a sachet of Skittles.  Roxy’s convinced that Elyan views Eggsy as a rather small adorable puppy that needs treats every so often to be kept happy.

Eggsy would dispute this if Elyan didn’t have thirty centimeters and fifty pounds on him.  As it is, he endures the affection and accepts the candy all whilst glaring at Roxy, who’s silently wheezing in laughter in the corner.  Suffice to say, by the time he’s escaped to chase after Harry, the man is gone.

***

“Oh my god though,” Eggsy moans into his pint.  “Don’t you fuckin’ want to know what’s so special ‘bout it?”

“I really couldn’t care less,” Roxy answers without hesitation.  She also doesn’t bother pulling her gaze away from a dapper older gentleman at a table some spots away.  He’s surrounded by his friends, all of whom have noticed Roxy’s steady stare, and is seemingly being ribbed by them for her attentions.  Roxy straightens up in her seat, lets her legs fall apart, and smiles slowly.  It’s dangerous and seductive and her teeth are a glittering slash of white in the dim lighting of the bar.  It marks her as an alpha that’s most definitely interested in a potential playmate.

“Rox.”

Roxy makes a show of tipping her chin back imperiously to match her new posture, one that consumes the space around in a show of power.  Once she’s satisfied with her display, she turns back to him.  The gentleman, as far as Eggsy can tell anyway, seems a bit flushed and has been descended upon by his friends again.

“Look,” She says, “if you want to know so badly, just ask him.”

“I mean, I fuckin’ would if I could, wouldn’t I.  I can’t find him,” Eggsy informs her petulantly.

“It’s Harry,” Roxy blinks in surprise.  “I thought you had some sort of radar when it came to him.”

“’S like he just disappeared though, innit,” Eggsy says.  He drains the rest of his pint and when he sets it down again, the gentleman that Roxy’d been eyeing up earlier is in front of their table.  His suit is bespoke, made in a color and pattern of fabric that suits his complexion quite well, though he doesn’t seem completely comfortable in it.  There’s a bit of grey salting his temples but he’s well fit, a fact made clear with the way the fabric goes taut across muscle when he steps forward to introduce himself to Roxy.

He puts his hand face down in front of her and says, “Ethan, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Roxy eyes him in amusement, her gaze softening when she notices the way his hand is trembling ever so slightly from nerves.  She takes his hand, sliding hers under his until her fingers meet the fine bones of his wrist.  She uses the contact to pull him into the vee of her legs.  He goes willingly and she moves her hand to his waist and then around his back to rest at the small of his back.

“Roxanne, pleased to meet you as well,” She replies.

Eggsy sighs – he knows when he’s lost Roxy’s attention well and good – and shoves up out of his seat.

“We ain’t done with talkin’ ‘bout Harry.  And you’re covering my drinks today,” Eggsy informs her.

“Mm, yes, we’ll talk about your crisis with Harry later.  Bye Eggsy,” She bids him farewell dismissively.  Roxy doesn’t even bother looking at him, just flickers her fingers at him in a paltry semblance of a wave.  She’s far too preoccupied with the way Ethan seems to be melting in relief at her acceptance of him.

Eggsy grunts back and goes to gather his jacket and scarf from the coat check desk – the fact that he goes to bars with valets at coat check desks still boggles him.  His disgruntlement with Roxy doesn’t last long as he dons his outerwear and pushes out the door.  He knows Roxy will indulge him with more conversation at work tomorrow so the least he can do is make himself scarce whilst she tries to court herself an omega.

***

“So like, he ain’t been mated then?   Didn’t find anyone and then just stopped havin’ heats cause he passed the age for ‘em,” Eggsy clarifies over lunch.  Roxy bites into her apple and nods.

“You should know all this.  It’s basic biology,” She scolds.

“No, I know, Rox.  Just clarifyin’ that I still know things,” Eggsy says.  “So like, if he goes into heat soon, he’s the one then?”

“That is the confirmation, yes,” Roxy allows.

“So how you shackin’ up with him already then?  Like I was ‘spectin’ you to bang him, yeah?  But then you took him out to breakfast and you’re gonna do dinner tonight and the whole nine yards?”

Roxy shrugs, “I don’t know.  I really think he’s the one.  He smells absolutely divine, it’s almost certain that he is. But even if he’s not the one, he’s sweet and quite attentive.”

She pauses long enough for Eggsy to raise a brow and Roxy casts him a look that has him miming zipping his lips before she says, “I want to keep him happy.  He’s just so bright when he’s talking about his interests and he’s genuinely pleased when I express my own interests.”

Eggsy wants to coo and the look on Roxy’s face makes it clear that she knows this.  She undercuts him quickly by moving the conversation on, “And enough about me.  Have you found Harry yet?”

Eggsy’s silence is all the confirmation she needs.

“Eggsy,” She sighs.  “Why don’t you just ask Merlin?”

“Tried, he won’t tell me,” Is the petulant answer she receives.

Roxy pats him sympathetically on the back.

“Try hacking Harry’s glasses feed?”

“Tried, Merlin double encrypted them,” Eggsy moans into his hands.

It occurs to Roxy then that Harry may not even be in the mansion or possibly London at all.  A thought that clearly has not occurred to Eggsy.

“Have you ever considered,” She says slowly, “that Harry’s on a mission?”

Eggsy looks up at that, his mouth dropped in an O of surprise.

“No,” He admits truthfully.

Roxy sighs, “Eggsy, I love you, I really do.  But sometimes you really aren’t the sharpest crayon in the box.”

Eggsy steals her second apple in retaliation.

***

Eggsy gets paired with Roxy on a mission two days after she meets Ethan and spends the entire first day trying not to gag over how adorable Roxy and Ethan are.

“Yeah, I’m here with Eggsy,” She coos into the phone.  “You remember Eggsy?  The one with me at the bar.  He’s one of my alpha colleagues.  He thought you were very fit.”

“I didn’t say that,” Eggsy calls from the bathroom.

“He said your suit made you look distinguished,” Roxy continues, ignoring his protest completely.  “I thought you looked lovely in it.  Though I would have gone with a red tie.”

Whatever Ethan says next makes Roxy smile brilliantly and she says, “I absolutely miss you.  I miss you being sweet and sleep soft in the mornings and the way your nose wrinkles when it’s too early for you to wake up.”

Eggsy forgoes shaving and tousles his hair into a more logical shape than just-got-out-of-bed-but-maybe-also-just-had-sex hair.  He dresses in a pair of tight jeans and pulls on a cashmere jumper because it’s the clothing that requires the least amount of time.  He sweeps his trainers off the floor and bangs out of the room.

“I’m leaving, Rox, bye, please don’t still be on the phone when I get back,” He says in lieu of a farewell.

It’s been sixteen hours since Roxy last saw Ethan and Eggsy’s afraid that if he hangs around her anymore when she’s on the phone, he may actually drown in the sweetness of their relationship.

Nah.  He’s got other things to do, like try to hack into Harry’s feed for the fourth time in as many days.

***

They don’t talk about Harry at all for the next week and a half nor does Roxy have time for more than a quick snapchat photo during the mission.

Their mission ends up requiring six explosions, each made with cleaning tools with directions from a very excited Caradoc.   It’s only once they’re situated on their extraction flight in the grand old epilogue of the mission where they try to tape themselves back together that they speak about Harry again.

“So did you find out anything?”  She doesn’t even have to say who they’re speaking about.  There’s only one subject which Eggsy has thrown himself into recently.

“No,” Eggsy says shortly as he tries to stick a rather large patch of medicated bandage to a burn on Roxy’s back.

Roxy wisely keeps quiet for the rest of the trip, which leaves Eggsy to stew in his failure at tracking Harry down as she sticks burn-plasters to him.

***

Roxy practically floats in the day after their combined debrief on a cloud of satisfied alpha hormones and the smug air of the newly bonded.  Eggsy’s jaw drops when he scents her and his shoe clatters to the floor from his lax fingers in his shock.

“Holy shit,” Eggsy spits out.  Dagonet raises a prim eyebrow at him in amusement and Eggsy makes a vaguely apologetic gesture at the woman wearing a pinched expression of offense and clutching a tie to her chest in her scandalization.

“So he was the one then?” He inquires once they’re ensconced in the first dressing room.

“Oh, yes he was,” She practically purrs out.

“So you’re taking leave then?” Eggsy asks as a formality.  It’s a given that she will, given that Ethan must still be in heat and that it will last anywhere from two to three weeks – the effect of a mature omega’s body making itself fertile again.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Roxy confirms.

Eggsy keeps it to himself that it’s still strange to hear her swear.

However, it’s nowhere as near as strange as what happens when they push through the doors to the dining room.  Harry is standing, one hand loosely clasped around the handle of his umbrella, the other swirling a snifter of whiskey, as he chuckles at whatever Merlin’s just said.  In the moment Harry turns, Eggsy has a moment of completely insanity.  It has to be insane because there’s no way the split second of a pornographic image reel that just flashed through his head – all of which included Harry moaning and wet for Eggsy’s knot – could possibly be anything but.

“Merlin, I’ve just bonded with Ethan and he’s gone into heat and I’ll see you in three to four weeks,” Roxy announces and then promptly leaves with a, “Hello, Galahad.”

Merlin looks blindsided and with the sudden lack of Roxy in the room to explain herself, he turns to Eggsy.

“So, er, couple weeks back, we was at a bar,” Eggsy starts.

“Just tell me the pertinent details.  I don’t need the story of your sexual escapades,” Merlin cuts in.

Eggsy smirks lasciviously at him, a suggestive wink thrown in just because, but obeys.

“She met this mature omega and hit it off with him.  Turns out he’s her mate and cause they mated he’s started goin’ into heat again,” Eggsy explains.

“Ah,” Merlin looks as if he wants to say more but chooses instead to mark Roxy down as on leave for the next month.

“And how are you, Eggsy?” Harry asks.  And again, Eggsy has that flash of insanity.  This time Harry is riding him slowly, expression calculating and lust addled as he slowly sinks himself down onto Eggsy’s knot.

“Good, great, swell,” Eggsy babbles out.  Then he promptly shuts his mouth and turns to Merlin to say, “I got a mission, please?”

Merlin looks at him incredulously.  It takes Eggsy a moment to figure out why but when he does he flushes slightly and shuffles his weight to his other leg.

“But like maybe we got quorum and I just can’t see ‘em cause I don’t got me glasses on?” He tries hopefully.

Merlin continues to stare at him as if he’s just done an amusing trick that might warrant a treat but doesn’t really at all.

“Or I could just go spend the day polishing my driving and doing paperwork,” Eggsy amends.

“You do that,” Merlin nods.

“Eggsy,” Harry calls out just before Eggsy can make his escape.

Eggsy invests a relatively long period of time, longer than social decorum would consider polite, into flicking his gaze aimlessly across the room while his mind races a mile a minute to try and figure out the best way to say without letting on that he’s suddenly opened the floodgates of wanting to fuck Harry.

There’s also the issue of his mouth occasionally working on autopilot.  Approximately eighty percent of the time, what comes out only makes the situation worse.  But thankfully, this is the twenty percent of the time where he’s magically lucked out.

What ends up coming out of his mouth is, “Hi, Harry,” and not, “Harry, you’re fit and I know you probably won’t say yes but do you want to go out on a date with me and maybe also to bed?”

It does, however, come out sounding extremely strangled and at Harry’s fond look Eggsy promptly wants to die.  Preferably by the floor opening up and swallowing him whole.  Because Harry is looking at Eggsy like he knows _exactly_ what just went through Eggsy’s head.

Which would, of course, be absolutely insane and unless Harry has somehow managed to garner knowledge of telepathy, Eggsy’s thoughts are still Eggsy’s thoughts.  But still, it’s Harry?  And Harry may have learned telepathy simply because he’s _Harry Hart_ , for fuck’s sake.

And now Eggsy just sounds crazy.  He talks himself off the ledge and just then registers that Harry is asking him something.

“Yeah, sure,” He says on autopilot.  A small, warm smile lights up Harry’s face and Eggsy is starting to get what Roxy meant by the whole thought of wanting to keep someone happy.  Eggsy would literally raze the world if it meant Harry kept smiling that damn warm smile.

He doesn’t have any more time to contemplate the situation because Harry interjects his thoughts smoothly with, “Good, then I will pick you up outside of your office at five thirty.”

“Er, yeah,” Eggsy agrees and then bolts from the room before he can tell Harry that he wants to make him waffles in bed.

***

The door in the dining room has been replaced with one that has spring loaded hinges that are really not conducive to slamming.

The result is that when Eggsy flees like a rabbit, the door doesn’t so much as slam behind him as slowly slide shut with a pneumatic hiss.  Both Harry and Merlin watch it track a slow quarter circle from its initial position until it closes without a single word between them.  It’s only once the door is shut that Merlin grins wickedly and waggles his eyebrows at Harry.

“Are you teasing the poor lad now?” Merlin inquires without preempt.  Harry smiles smugly as he settles himself into the seat next to Merlin.

“Nonsense,” He demurs.  “I’m merely trying out the new version of Heat that you’ve given me.”

Merlin raises his eyebrows instead of asking for more.

“And perhaps I’ve also reduced my suppressants,” Harry admits.

“He’s never going to get anything done again,” Merlin laments.

“Oh?”

“He’s wanking off in the hidden crawl space behind the grandfather clock two rooms over,” Merlin informs Harry.

“Well, he has always been clever.”

Merlin shakes his head in disgust at the sheer adoration in Harry’s voice and directs them back to Harry’s current mission.

***

After he wanks off, he sits in the crawl space with his head stuck between his knees for several moments as he tries to parse the situation.  Once he’s come to the conclusion that he can’t do this on his own, he phones Roxy.  He only remembers that Roxy is on heat leave after he’s called her six times and left increasingly hysterical voicemails for her.  He chooses the next best option and goes to Percival, who looks incredibly pained that he’s been chosen as confidant by virtue of being Roxy’s brother.

Which Eggsy vehemently argues is not true, he also chose Percival because he was the first person that Eggsy saw that he trusted to not tell anyone what he’s about to word vomit.   He’s sprinting full tilt down the corridor when he spies Percival, whom he grabs by the arm and drags into the nearest office, which happens to belong to Bedivere, who looks scowly at the thought of Eggsy being in his office at all.

Eggsy sticks his tongue out at Bedivere, which results in the older man looking incredibly affronted, and shoos the man out, citing “important mission things” as his reason.  Neither Percival nor Bedivere look impressed at his less than stellar excuse.

Eggsy makes sure the door is locked and he trusts that Merlin hasn’t broken the privacy protocol and installed cameras in their office without their knowledge.  Then he spins around to face Percival and gusts out, all in one big breath, “So like what would you do if you suddenly wanted to fuck someone twice as old as you but like also wanted to make them waffles and see them sleepy with terrible bedhead and rag on them for keeping butterflies in the bathroom.”

To which Percival groans and says, “This is about Harry isn’t it.”

“What? No.  Maybe.  It could be not about Harry.  Why’d you think it was Harry?”

Percival fixes him with a look that reminds him intensely of his fourth grade teacher, who, incidentally enough, Eggsy remembered being the same sort of no nonsense person as Percival.  She also had the uncanny ability to make him want to stand straighter with the very same look Percival has on now.

Eggsy doesn’t straighten up.

(He does, a little.  It’s not even noticeable, really.)

“Besides the fact that only one agent we know has butterflies in his bathroom?”

“Did I say that?”  He honestly can’t remember the words that tumbled out of his mouth a minute ago.

The look comes back.  Eggsy straightens up a bit more.

Percival finally takes pity on him or decides that this will evidently take less time if he gives Eggsy what he wants.

“The agents have a betting pool on the two of you getting together,” Percival informs him magnanimously.

And then he destroys the gesture of good faith by adding, “And if you don’t do something in the next month, I’ll lose.”

The look Percival gives Eggsy this time makes it very clear that it won’t be pleasant if he loses.

“What.”

“You haven’t read Harry’s file, have you,” Percival says in wonder.

“No?”

“You should, it’s quite interesting,” Percival says and pats Eggsy on the shoulder as he bypasses him to leave.

Which leaves Eggsy staring at Bedivere’s weirdly ancient spinning chair trying to figure out which of Percival’s advices to follow first.

***

He decides to deal with reading Harry’s file first.  He gets as far as reading Harold Henry Hatham Hart before Merlin’s face pops up on his screen to tell him that he’s got a meeting in five minutes and that Harry’s file will no longer be available to him until he gets his head out of his arse.

Eggsy is understandably somewhat offended.

He doesn’t have his head in his arse.  He’s just…slower at social cues.  Yes, that’s what he’s going with.

Merlin laughs when Eggsy tells him this and Eggsy informs him that his laughter is hurtful, Merlin, so very hurtful.  To which Merlin laughs some more and then hands him more intel for his mission before directing him out the door.

In light of this, Eggsy decides to do something about the second of Percival’s advices.

***

Kay, who’s the oldest Kingsman at sixty nine (and didn’t that just make Eggsy snort for the longest time), gives him the sort of expression one would expect from a kindly old grandfather before telling him that he’s got enough time to not lose the bet before he tells Eggsy anything.  He also passes Eggsy a chocolate bar before moving on.  In the span of the few seconds it takes Eggsy to register this, Kay is gone, remarkably spry for someone who looks moments away from simply lying down and never getting back up.

Gwaine spends long moments with his face vacillating between a dopey smile and a frown that keeps trying to be a dopey smile.  He, too, is spectacularly unhelpful in that evasive way that Eggsy has learned is so much worse than someone simply telling you they don’t want to tell you anything.  Gwaine at least humors him, unlike Kay, though Eggsy isn’t sure that’s any better.

He makes a token effort with the other agents he comes across, but they make it quite clear that they’re enjoying the situation immensely and some of them are bitterer than others about having lost the bet already.  But nearly everyone still has a close colleague in the running and therefore refuses to give Eggsy any information that might disadvantage them.

Eggsy fucking hates spies.

It’s finally Thaniel, a chemmie down in Merlin’s domain, who gives a kind of straight answer.

“It’s like an artificial heat,” Thaniel explains as he thoughtfully swishes about a tiny bottle of the compound.

Eggsy watches the golden liquid swirl about in rapt fascination as the image of Harry, long and lean and flushed, arching in heat comes unbidden to his mind.

“Does,” He starts and then stops to cough and clear his throat.  Thaniel gives him a smirk that lets Eggsy know that he’s aware of exactly what sort of dirty thoughts this new information is giving Eggsy.

“Does it attract alphas or somethin’?” He asks and stalwartly maintains eye contact with Thaniel even though he’s sure his face is flaming red by now.

Thaniel shrugs, “Dunno.  Galahad only ever uses this stuff when he’s pretending to be a mature omega who’s just found his mate.  It induces all the symptoms of a regular heat but allows Galahad to keep lucidity.”

“Right,” Eggsy says, sounding strangled again.

Thaniel eyes him curiously before setting the little bottle down.  He steeples his fingers together and leans back in his swivel chair, looking uncannily like a Bond villain without the cat.  Now that Eggsy has a moment to think, he frowns as something occurs to him.

“Harry’s a beta though,” Eggsy says.

There’s a moment’s pause, barely more than a beat, before Thaniel says, “Of course he is,” in the sort of tone you use on an older child who’s still of the opinion that Elmer’s glue is a valid food option.  Eggsy thinks it’s supposed to be sarcasm, but he’s really not sure.

“We have scent mixers for that you know.  A cocktail of pheromones that will mimic an omega’s.”

Eggsy’s gut tells him that Thaniel is lying through his teeth.  But Eggsy plows ahead anyway.

“So’s I was prolly just up on those then?”

And, holy fucking god, the smile crossing Thaniel’s face right now cannot be good in any capacity at all.  He taps a long finger against his chin and tips his head in consideration.

“I’m sure you were,” He answers.  “Here.”

He passes the little vial of Heat to Eggsy.  “You should try this out sometime.  See what it’s like to be an omega.”

“Are ye supposed to be givin’ this to me?” Eggsy eyes the bottle suspiciously.

“I’ve been meaning to run tests on how they react to an alpha,” Thaniel shrugs.  “And truthfully, it doesn’t react to betas at all.”

“An’ Merlin signed off on this?”

“Merlin signs off on anything that’s promised not to have detrimental health effects, which this won’t.”

Eggsy takes the bottle partially because Thaniel looks like he’s challenging Eggsy and mostly because he’s really fucking curious.  Besides, it’s not like he has to consume it even if he does take the bottle.

As soon as the bottle’s out of his hands, Thaniel spins around and goes back to the reaction which is simmering away in front of him.

“Ta, Eggsy,” He says absently as he flicks a switch and watches condensation form.

“Yeah, cheers.”

***

At five thirty-six and eight seconds – not that Eggsy’s keeping track or anything – Harry raps on Eggsy’s open door as sort of promised.

“Shall we?” He says, looking just as gorgeous as he did in the morning.

“Yeah,” Eggsy manages to sound like a put together adult instead of something that’s been gargled through the garbage disposal a few times.

Harry smiles indulgently as Eggsy shuffles around the room and tries to piece himself together.  He swipes his blazer off the back of the chair in the corner and digs out one of his shoes from behind the trash can, the other out from under his desk.  And then he has to spend a few moments telling himself that this is just dinner and clearly not a date and _for fuck’s sake, Unwin, get it the fuck together._

And then Harry ruins all his efforts to seem like an adult by saying, “You look absolutely divine,” before turning smartly on his heel and leaving with Eggsy goggling at his back in shock.

He’s still not completely over his shock when they reach the restaurant, a place that serves the best Mauritian food he’s had outside of Mauritius itself.  He sits through an entire dinner of Harry watching him with crinkled eyes of adoration and striking up small talk about everything from the food to the latest trendy cuts in undergarments.

That particular topic has Eggsy coughing and choking and then blaming it on the mazavroo, which only serves to make Harry’s smile fonder.  Eggsy spends the rest of the dinner studiously avoiding thinking about the particular cuts of pants that Harry is describing to him, specifically the way Harry’s arse and legs might look in them.  He does okay right up until Harry mentions lace panties and then he chokes all over again.

“Perhaps lace is for a younger crowd,” Harry muses, as if Eggsy isn’t looking for some manner of escape.

“Maybe,” Eggsy agrees as he contemplates whether or not stuffing his face will save him from embarrassing himself further.

“I’m sure they would suit you much better than I,” Harry says and then eyes Eggsy like he’s imagining this very scenario at the present moment.

“Mmm, wouldn’t you like to know,” Eggsy replies with a cheeky eyebrow waggle and then promptly wants to die.

“A good pair wouldn’t interrupt the line of the suit,” Harry continues on.

“So, how’s ye know I ain’t wearin’ a pair right now then?  Or no pants at all, fer that matter.”  Eggsy’s breath hitches because _holy fuck_ , Harry looks absolutely predatory.  His eyes are dark and focused as he smiles slowly and Eggsy shoves his beer bottle into his mouth as fast as he can, which only serves to make Harry’s smile wider.

“I don’t,” Harry admits.  “But I wouldn’t be opposed to finding out.”

And then there’s the sudden image that comes unbidden to Eggsy’s mind.  It’s of him wearing a pair of dark lace panties, the band pushed under his balls, and a dress shirt that’s practically falling off him.  There’s another beat and then Harry is there, eyes dark as he commands Eggsy.

“I have to go, immediately,” Eggsy squeaks and then very carefully does not bolt out of the restaurant.

He does, however, start sprinting down the street the moment he’s out the door.

***

Eggsy spends the next two weeks of Roxy’s heat leave studiously avoiding Harry.  Before, it was like the man didn’t exist at all, but now, it’s like Harry is _everywhere._   He’ll be eating lunch in the communal kitchen with someone, usually Gwaine because they’re the next closest in age, when Harry will saunter in, smelling like the best damn thing ever and Eggsy will have another flash reel of slipping into Harry slow and sweet or of being tied to the headboard while Harry takes what he wants.

It always results in Eggsy shoving as much of his food into his mouth before fleeing with a muffled excuse.  He stops eating lunch in the kitchen, choosing instead to eat in the crawl space.  The crawl space is his new favorite place in the whole of the mansion, he decides after the fourth time he spends lunch in there.  And it’s only partially because Harry is too tall to fit in it.

It’s not only lunchtime though.  It’s other times, like when Eggsy wants to go to the gym and Harry is there sweating and lifting his shirt up to wipe at the sweat.  It always results in Eggsy popping one and having to wank off in the locker room before trying for the gym again.

The worst is the gun range though, by far.  Harry has a habit, a goddamned habit that makes Eggsy aroused and very angry at himself for being aroused by it.  He doesn’t have this habit in the field, but on the range, he has the habit of kissing the end of his gun barrel before he starts.  A good luck charm, Harry tells him the first time Eggsy catches him.  And all Eggsy can do is smile and nod because his head is too full of the image of Harry pressing the same sort of kiss to his cock to even attempt words.

It’s a very miserable two weeks in which Eggsy spends a lot of time avoiding Harry, failing at avoiding Harry, wanking off to the thought of Harry, and then staring at the little bottle of Heat.

***

Despite his curiosity, Eggsy also doesn’t want to drink any of this concoction alone.  He reasons that it’s like the first time you do any drug; you should do it with a friend.  So he invites Roxy over the day she comes back from leave – she tells Ethan that she has overtime and spends far too long trading declarations of affection back and forth – and they eat ridiculous amounts of Thai takeout before crowding onto the couch and staring at the little vial.

“Halfsies?” Eggsy says.

“You sure that’s enough?” Roxy asks, rolling the bottle back and forth between her fingertips.

“Thaniel said half’s about the right dose,” Eggsy shrugs.

“Half then,” Roxy agrees.

Eggsy approximates half the bottle into each of the shot glasses on the table.  He picks his own up and waits for Roxy to gather hers before he clinks them together.

“Cheers,” He says.

“Cheers,” She replies in kind and then they slug the shot back in tandem.

They sit on the couch for a good thirty minutes before Roxy asks, “How long does this take to kick in?”

“Dunno, but it ain’t supposed to be this long.  ‘Least not according to what I read on Thaniel’s file,” Eggsy tells her.

“So it doesn’t work on alphas,” Roxy says.

“Yeah, guess it don’t,” Eggsy sighs.

And then he bolts up straight.

“Wait.”

“What?” Roxy says.  She’s already off the couch and beelining for the liquor cabinet.  But she turns to him expectantly, somehow managing to make her brow raise look elegant under her messy sleepover bun.

“I just remembered.  Thaniel says this stuff don’t work on betas,” Eggsy says slowly.  He can feel all the pieces of the puzzle sliding into place.

“Yes, and?”

“And if it don’t work on alphas neither,” Eggsy continues.  “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Roxy,” Eggsy stands and grips Roxy’s shoulders, looking her dead in the eye.

“What?” She still looks confused by the situation.

“Rox, if it don’t work on alphas and it don’t work on betas but it works on Harry,” Eggsy says.

“Oh my god,” Roxy’s eyes grow wide as she hits upon the same conclusion as Eggsy.

“Harry’s an omega,” They say in tandem.

***

Eggsy bursts into the dining room and shouts, “You’re an omega!”  He’s got one finger levered accusingly in Harry’s direction for a split second before he has to crouch over and catch his breath.

“Sorry, gimme a mo,” He heaves out.  “Rox thought it’d be swank to run from home to here.”

“I thought it’d be a good workout,” Roxy tells him again as she deposits herself into a seat and flops her head back with a groan.

“We got lost,” Eggsy moans as he manages to stagger over to the seat next to Harry.

“We were momentarily detoured,” Roxy sniffs haughtily.

“Rox, we fuckin’ got lost.  You don’t know nothin’ about directions,” Eggsy accuses.

“Yes, well.”

“But anyway,” Eggsy redirects, suddenly remembering what he’s here for.  “Yer an omega.”

Harry doesn’t even have the grace to look caught out.  Instead, he looks amused, smug, and a bit proud, like he’s happy that Eggsy figured it out on his own but also like he finds it funny that it took Eggsy this long to figure it out.  He looks unfairly good and Eggsy stops himself from making a declaration of love in front of Merlin and Roxy by the slim virtue of slapping a hand over his mouth.  It also stops him from telling Harry that he’s just had a delusion of Harry taunting him, with this exact face, through so many orgasms he starts coming dry.

“Indeed, I am,” Harry confirms.

“Grbhblf,” Eggsy says.

He takes a moment to compose himself.  And then he asks, “So is the reason you smell so good cause of the Heat?”

Harry shakes his head.

“No, Eggsy, I stopped taking that after the mission.”

“What are you talking about?  He smells like a normal omega,” Roxy tells him in confusion.

Eggsy just moans piteously and slides off his seat to curl up under the table as the final missing piece of the puzzle finally, finally slots into place.  He watches as Roxy’s legs leave the room, followed soon after by Merlin’s.  Only Harry remains seated and he allows Eggsy a bit more self-pity before speaking up.

“Is everything alright?”

“Nnnnnnnngh,” Eggsy replies.

“Eggsy.”

“I think we’re mates,” Eggsy says quietly.

“Ah, yes, that.”

“What the fuck do you mean by – fucking shit!” Eggsy clutches his head and breathes through the sudden pain radiating through his skull.  He’d forgotten he was still under the table and tried to stand up too quickly.

One of Harry’s hands comes under the table and Eggsy takes hold of it begrudgingly.  He lets Harry tug him out from under the table and gather him into his lap.

“Ain’t this supposed to be my job?” Eggsy says after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“The whole holding in the lap thing.”

“We can try that another time,” Harry allows.

“So ye knew?  Ye knew we was mates?”

“I had an idea, yes,” Harry says.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eggsy asks, suddenly feeling very small.  “’M not good enough?”

“Oh, no, Eggsy, that was never the reason,” Harry assures him and hugs him tighter.  “You will always be good enough, my dear boy.”

“Then why?”

“I always surmised that you should go out into the world and see what it had to offer before settling down for someone like me,” Harry admits.  “But then several years passed and you never showed more than a vague interest in anyone beyond a night’s pleasure and I thought perhaps it was time.”

“Years?” Eggsy jerks up at that to boggle at Harry.  “You knew for years?”

“Since the moment I scented you outside of Holbourne Station,” Harry replies serenely.

Eggsy sits there for a moment, slow wonderment effusing through him as he wonders how he could have possibly be mates with someone like Harry.  He snuggles closer, basking in the warmth and the scent of expensive cologne that is so quintessentially Harry.  Harry presses a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead and folds them together in a way that makes cramming onto the chair more comfortable.  Eggsy’s just contemplating drifting off for a bit of a nap when he realizes something.

“The fuck you mean someone like you?” Eggsy asks indignantly.  He bolts up as straight as he can with Harry still wrapped around him and more or less just ends up gazing upwards at Harry’s chin.

Harry blinks down at him in surprise.

“I’m a mature omega,” Harry states plainly.

“And?” Eggsy demands.  “Roxy’s bondmate is a mature omega.  The fuck does that gotta do with anything?”

“I would also not be amenable to providing you with children, if you wished it,” Harry says.

“That’s great.  I don’t want any kiddos right now anyway,” Eggsy sweeps away the reason with ease.  “What else?”

“I’m twice your age,” Harry says, though he’s beginning to sound more amused than anything.

“That’s the same as the mature omega excuse,” Eggsy dismisses.  He squirms out of Harry’s hold and turns to face him, hands coming up to cup Harry’s face.

“Look, I don’t give two flying tosses if you’re a mature omega or if ye don’t want kids or if ye fuckin’ suck at housework,” Eggsy starts.  He stops for a moment to close his eyes and draw in a bracing breath.

“I love you,” Eggsy says.  “I loved you before I knew you was my omega, before I knew you was an omega at all.  I love you because you have that creepy as fuck butterfly collection and because you sometimes wear socks with patterns on the toes because that’s all the concession you’ll make to not being fashionable.  I love the way you drink the tea I make even though you obviously think I fuck it up each time.”

“The water’s not hot enough,” Harry recites by rote.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eggsy waves off the reprimand and continues on, “I fuckin’ love you.  Ok?  Not cause yer an omega, but because yer Harold Henry Hatham Hart.”

He pauses for a moment, his nose wrinkling in thought.

“Though, like, if we do one day have kids, can we stick with just the one name?  And no alliteration,” Eggsy says.

Harry cracks a broad, warm smile and Eggsy swears he sees the sun in the way Harry’s eyes glitter.

“Of course.  My parents were horribly traditional,” Harry says.  “I’m sure we’ll endeavor to be different.”

Eggsy nods and closes the few inches between them to kiss Harry, slow and chaste.  Harry pulls back after a moment to clear his throat.

“I believe it is my turn now,” Harry says.

“Yer turn for what?”

“I love you, too,” Harry tells him.  He strokes a thumb along the underside of Eggsy’s wrist and Eggsy barely registers it at all as Harry keeps speaking.

“I told myself very long ago that I would not tie myself down to anyone, no matter if they were my alpha or not.  When I scented you outside of Holbourne Station, I told myself that perhaps we would be acquaintances, but never lovers and certainly not mates.  But you were darling, with your terrible jackets and your lack of knowledge about dog breeds and the way you smiled at me even though you didn’t know about my status at all.”

“Harry,” Eggsy breathes out reverently and then promptly smushes his face into Harry’s shoulder in an attempt to pretend he’s not about to cry from an overload of feelings.

“You loved me for me and I thought that, for you, I could see myself being your omega.  I could be the mate to a young man who loved me despite it all,” Harry whispers the last of his declaration into Eggsy’s hair as he runs a soothing hand down his back.  It takes Eggsy a while to rein in the impulse to cry but he does eventually, after a few deep breaths.  It helps a lot that Harry’s gathered him back into his lap.

“Oh.”

“Mm?”

“I just realized somethin’.”

“And this would be?”

“Percival wins the pot cause I got figured my shit out before the month was up.  He ain’t gonna make life unpleasant for me now!”

When Harry throws back his head to laugh, all Eggsy can think is _yeah, I really would do anything to see him happy_ and then snuggles in closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Also! This is who I have headcanoned for Ethan.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> His name is Godfrey Gao and he's an adorkable puppy who can go from cute to holy fuck with the application of eyeliner.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](ilokheimsins.tumblr.com)!


End file.
